


The Frayne Family Moves to Sleepyside

by ChiaraRose



Series: Win Lives [1]
Category: The Trixie Belden Mysteries - Julie Campbell Tatham & Kathryn Kenny
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-28
Updated: 2018-02-28
Packaged: 2019-03-25 01:37:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13823733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChiaraRose/pseuds/ChiaraRose
Summary: This story is for Jiximetri Circle Writing Event #16 One Lives, One Dies: The Butterfly Effect (http://jixemitri.net/circle/events/CWE16/). We're invited to imagine that one of the canon orphans has one parent living. My choice for survival is Winthrop Frayne, Jim's father. Let's see what effect that has on the Trixieverse.





	The Frayne Family Moves to Sleepyside

Jim Frayne woke with a start, confused. Where was he? Then he remembered: Great-uncle James' house that he'd inherited, that they'd moved into yesterday. He wiggled out of his sleeping bag, which he'd placed on top of his bed last night. They hadn't found the sheets yet, hadn't had time to find much of anything after the movers left. Fortunately he'd packed an overnight bag, so he had clean clothes. They'd done so much cleaning before the movers arrived that yesterday's clothes were stiff with dust and dirt.

Because he wanted to walk around the property this morning, he picked up his gun and some ammunition. Most of the land was grown over, an ideal place for snakes in the summer. A copperhead bit his great-aunt in the summerhouse; this seemed like good snake country, overgrown or not. He tiptoed downstairs so as not to wake his dad. Everything in this old run-down house creaked. In their sorrow after Mom died and the bankruptcy over her and Dad's hospital bills, he and Dad both wanted to leave their old town, but he had doubts now that they were here.

Breakfast was going to be protein bars again. He started the coffee maker--they'd marked that box in big red letters. As he munched on his chocolate-peanut butter bar, which tasted like neither, he heard a creaking sound in the dining room, like a window opening. Jim frowned when he heard whispers. He picked up his gun and moved silently towards the dining room.

"Hands up! I've got you covered!" he shouted, wishing his voice hadn't cracked. He lowered the barrel when he saw the intruders: two teenage girls, slightly younger than his fifteen years, huddled together, staring at him in horror.

The taller one looked like she was going to faint. "Please don't shoot us. We didn't mean any harm."

The little blonde put her hands on her hips and declared, "You have no business here. This is James Frayne's house."

"It's my house now," said Jim. "I'm James Winthrop Frayne II. You have no business here."

The tall girl ran a hand over her golden hair.  "We're sorry. Come on, Trixie."

The little blonde stood her ground. "We've been keeping an eye on the house since old Mr. Frayne died. We're neighbors. I'm Trixie Belden, and this is Honey Wheeler. It looked like someone had been messing with the house, so we came by to check before calling the police."

They both were dressed in jeans and T-shirts, but Honey's looked crisp and new, her jeans a deep indigo, while Trixie's clothes had been through the wash many times, and her jeans ranged from pale blue to threadbare white, and fell several inches above her ankles, rather like his own jeans, as he noticed when he glanced down.

Jim heard his dad's halting, uneven steps coming from the downstairs bedroom. "It's okay, Dad. It's just neighbors."

His dad stopped at the doorway and held on to its frame. "I'd like to meet them too. I'm Winthrop Frayne, and this is my son Jim, whose parents did teach him better than to point a gun at guests."

Jim ducked his head in embarrassment.

Generous in victory, Trixie said, "Well, we came through the window, so it's no wonder he thought we were criminals." She recited their names and reasoning again.

"Thank you very much, Trixie and Honey," said Win. "I'm glad to know we have such thoughtful neighbors. I'd invite you to breakfast, but I fear our cupboards are rather bare."

"Just protein bars," Jim admitted. "And coffee."

"Thanks, but we've already had breakfast," said Trixie. "Pancakes. Yum!"

Jim's mouth watered. "That's what I wanted. I'll go up to that little store--What was it? Lytell's?--and get the makings this afternoon."

Honey smiled and offered, "Why don't you come riding with us, Jim? We'll show you the neighborhood and stop by the store the last thing. Oh, do you ride? We have plenty of horses for you."

Trixie nodded. "They have a horse for everybody in the family and Miss Trask, Honey's governess. But Honey and I do most of the riding. I can't wait until my brothers come back from camp next week to help us exercise them."

Jim sighed, full of longing. "Wouldn't I love to! I used to have a horse, but..." He swallowed. "Not any more. But we've got all this unpacking to do."

His dad said, "Jim, why don't you go with them? We worked hard yesterday, moving Uncle James' things to the front room and cleaning the rooms for our things. I'd be glad to sit down and do nothing for awhile. We can start unpacking after lunch."

"We'll help, if you like," volunteered Trixie. "Everyone says Mr. Frayne hid a fortune in this house. I'm sure we could find it."

Win smiled. "He hid it well then. But you're welcome to look."

Jim said, "Thanks, Dad. I'd really like to go. Sit down at the table, and I'll bring you some bars and coffee. Do you have enough medicine?"

"Yes, Jim. I'll be fine. Go on now. I know how you've missed riding."

Trixie insisted that Jim ride her horse Susie first. He argued and lost, foreshadowing their many years as friends. 

She skipped beside Susie, as Jim and Honey reigned in their horses to walk at a comfortable pace for Trixie. She said, "I hope your horse didn't die, Jim. Susie isn't even mine, and I know how sad I'd be if she died."

Jim looked down into Trixie's bright blue eyes. They looked right into his soul. He felt angry at the invasion and vulnerable at the same time, but he found himself telling her things he'd never told anyone. "No, I sold him when I realized we couldn't afford him. I didn't understand at first. I was younger then. My mom had cancer and my dad was in a bad car wreck. He lost his job because he missed so much work, and sometimes when I answered the phone, people thought I was him, and they said...they said stuff about paying them back right away...so I sold Thunder to the family next door. My dad was mad, but he couldn't deny that we couldn't afford to feed a horse. Some weeks we got our food from the church's food bank. Then we had to sell most of the farm, so we didn't have room for him anyway."

Honey's eyes filled with tears. "That's so awful, Jim. I've been sick a lot, but we never worried about whether we could afford the hospital or doctor. It's so awful that some people have so much and others not enough! I want to do something about that someday."

Jim sighed. "That would be great, Honey. Me, I want to have a school, an outdoor school, where kids can learn about the wilderness. Being outdoors was the only thing that ever made me feel better after my mom got sick. I hated that we had to sell the farm. The bankruptcy left us our house, but we couldn't afford to keep it up, so we rented it out and moved into this cruddy little apartment in town. I hated it. The only outdoor time I got was when my Scout troop went camping. I thought about getting a job as a camp counselor this summer, but my dad doesn't get around very well. He needs me. It sure is great to be out here, though."

"A lot of it is wilderness, for sure," said Trixie. "My brothers are in Scouts, too. Maybe you can be in their troop."

"I'd like that. I want to get back into Scouts as soon as possible." Jim leaned over to pat Susie's neck.

Honey said in a timid voice, "I hope things are better for you and your father now.  The newspaper said Mr. Frayne left a large estate."

What Jim intended as a sigh came out as an explosion of air, like something kept under pressure for too long. Susie swiveled her ears back in response. He shouted, making Strawberry swerve away a  few steps, "You'd think, wouldn't you? I'm Great-Uncle James' heir, and my father says it's my money, that I can use it for what I want and need, like college, scouts, a horse, car--but he won't take a penny for himself. He kept applying for disability, but he kept getting turned down, like you have to be dead before the government admits you're disabled. Now we both get Social Security as Mom's survivors, and he says that's plenty to live on. But he was supposed to have another operation, which would help with his pain and walking, but by then he didn't have insurance, and he couldn't get on a government program either. They wouldn't even give him a wheelchair. So he thinks I'm going to buy a red Corvette while he limps around, driving a rusty old hooptie that won't pass inspection next year? What kind of person would I be, to enjoy my wealth while my father lives in pain and poverty?"

"Parents," said Trixie in disgust. "They never understand anything."

She ran ahead and waved  at the far end of the Ten Acres property. It was a forest too overgrown to explore. "Down there? In the woods? Someone grows marijuana in the back part of your property, the most overgrown part. Honey and I saw it earlier this week. I told my dad, and he's going to get the sheriff out to destroy it. Again. Sometimes he rips it up himself, but he always tells us kids to stay away, in case anybody thinks it's ours."

Jim stared straight ahead, guiding Susie around some bushes. "Tell your dad we'll take care of it, since it's on our property. Well, my dad will. He's got very strong opinions about drugs."

They walked on, with Trixie pointing out the road to her house, Crabapple Farm, the road to the lake, and other points of interest. At some point, he dismounted and gave Susie back to her. He wanted to look closer at the plant life.

When they drew in sight of a stately mansion, Honey swung out of her saddle. "Here, Jim. You ride Strawberry to the barn. Regan, our groom, likes to make sure people can really ride before they get on one of our horses."

Trixie laughed. "Otherwise, he'll teach you, and you want to come with us, not ride around the paddock."

Strawberry was a good, steady mount. Jim liked how she responded to his slightest touch on the bridle. As they approached the horse barn, he inhaled the horsey scent like it was a drug. It infected him with such a homesickness that he could hardly speak.

Honey called to the young man coming out of the barn. "Regan, this is our new neighbor, Jim Frayne. Jim, this is our groom, Bill Regan. We'd like for Jim to ride with us, Regan. I have to go in the house for a few minutes. Can you get a horse ready for him?"

Regan smiled as Trixie and Jim came with him into the barn. "Hello, Jim. I can see you're an experienced rider. Let's put you up on Lady. I don't let anyone ride Jupiter, Mr. Wheeler's horse. And I have to keep saying that because some people keep forgetting." He grinned at Trixie.

"It was only the one time I tried to ride him. Well, twice," Trixie protested.

Jim wasn't listening. He caught his breath at the sight of the massive black stallion tossing his head in the last stall. Jim inched forward as he murmured, "Hi there, boy. Aren't you a beauty, just like my Thunder. I bet you act just like him too, just as contrary. Wish I had a treat for you."

Regan and Trixie continued their good-natured argument about when she'd be experienced enough to ride Jupiter until Regan broke off and stared at Jim, still murmuring to Jupiter as the stallion nudged the boy's chest.

"I'm guessing Jim might be closer to riding Jupe than you are, Trixie," Regan said, rubbing his chin.

"Please, Mr. Regan, can I? He's just like my Thunder. Dad bought him for himself, but I was the only one who could handle him, so he became mine."

"You can take Jupe for a few turns around the paddock," said Regan. "Then we'll see."

When Honey came back, struggling with a big picnic basket, Regan opened the paddock gate to let Jim and Jupiter out. Trixie swung into Susie's saddle with a sulky expression on her face.

"You two seem made for each other," said Regan to Jim. "Mind him on Glen Road, though. Cars spook him."

Jim felt like his face would crack from such a big grin. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been this happy. "Thank you, Mr. Regan. He's wonderful. Thank you, Honey. Please thank your father for me. I'll be so careful."

Honey handed her basket to Regan while she mounted her horse. 

Trixie leaned over, trying to see what was in the basket. "Looks like you've got lunch there. Your cook is the best."

Honey sounded shy. "She is. I told her we wanted to have a picnic with the new neighbors, and she packed a whole bunch of things, to say welcome."

Jim could feel his face burning. "We don't need a charity basket. We'll have food after I go to the store."

Honey looked distressed, but Trixie snorted. "It's just being friendly. As soon as my mother hears about you, she'll be over with a loaf of homemade bread and a pie. Don't people bring food to newcomers where you come from?"

"I'm sorry, Honey," Jim said, abashed. "Maybe I don't know. I lived on the farm all my life until we moved to that cruddy apartment. The neighbors came over to tell us not to take their parking spaces." 

Honey raised her eyes to his and jerked up the corners of her mouth.

Still ashamed, he said again, "I'm sorry, Honey."

Her smile relaxed into something more natural, making Jim happy. Except for another quarrel with Trixie when they got to Lytell's store over who would stay outside with the horses--even with old-fashioned hitching posts in front of the store, Jim didn't think Honey should be left with all three horses--smiles and laughter dominated the trip back to Ten Acres. 

Win's thanks to Honey were sincere and kind. He apparently had heard of bringing food to new neighbors. Jim's cheeks burned, remembering his own response. He vowed to make it up to Honey. Even with less than an hour's acquaintance, he could tell she'd never do anything mean.

Lunch was tasty and plentiful, with lots left over for later. The girls were happy to sort through Great Uncle James' things, all shoved into the front parlor, while Jim brought boxes to his father at the dining room table. Win sorted things for Jim to put away in other parts of the house.

Trixie declared again that she was going to find treasure and wasn't at all discouraged when Win told her that he and Mr. Rainsford, the executor, had already gone through the desk and removed the financial records. 

"It won't be someplace obvious, like a desk. It might be hidden in these stacks of newspapers," she said.

Jim rolled his eyes, but not where she could see. He would have picked up the stacks and put them in a trash bag, but Trixie insisted on shaking out the pages, raising an awful dust storm. Honey asked permission to open the doors and windows.

Finally Trixie shouted in triumph, "Here, look!" She held up an old brass key, turned green with neglect. 

She was a bit let down when no one knew what the key was for, but she was sure when they did find out, there would be untold treasure inside. 

Always loyal, Honey agreed and said, "In books, there's always a safe behind paintings, like that still life over there."

Trixie looked at it in disgust. "That's got to be the ugliest painting ever. Those hideous flowers and that stiff bowl of fruit. Oh! I hope it's not your favorite or painted by some famous artist I should admire. Just look at the way that apple sticks out, such a thick glob of paint."  She poked at the apple to wipe some of the dust off and jumped back as the whole picture frame sprang away from the wall to reveal a hidden alcove. "I must have accidentally pressed the button that releases a spring."

Jim ran into another room to get his flashlight. The three young people squashed together to look inside.

"Empty!" Honey moaned. "Did you ever--"

"Wait a minute!" Trixie exclaimed. "There's something way back in the corner." She thrust her hand into the alcove and pulled out a tiny jewel case. She flipped it open in front of Jim's father and gasped, "It's an old-fashioned engagement ring! Did you ever see such an enormous diamond?"

"It's huge," agreed Honey. "Jim, it must have belonged to your great-aunt."

Win nodded. "Probably so. Uncle James couldn't bear any reminders of his wife after she died. Jim, we'll put it away for the day when you find a young lady you'd like to have it."

Jim could feel his face burning. "Dad, I don't even remember Great Aunt Nell or Great Uncle James. I think we should sell this ring so you can have your operation."

Win sighed. "Jim, that operation would cost $50,000. This ring might be worth a few thousand. I'll put it away for now and we'll decide what to do with it later. One thing that would help clear out the room is to get rid of that old mattress. I hate to think of Uncle James sleeping on the floor in his last years. Why don't you kids move it to the porch? I'll call someone to haul it away when we've gone through everything. I'm sure we'll find more things to throw out as we go along."

Trying not to scowl, Jim walked over to the mattress under the front window. He kicked the mattress before picking up one end. Honey brushed her fingers across his arm and gave him a sympathetic look. He gave her a tight smile. Trixie picked up the other end, with Honey in the middle. But Jim and Trixie pulled in opposite directions, knocking Honey off balance. She flailed her arms and jerked the mattress out of Jim's and Trixie's hands as she fell forward.

"Oh, no! I've torn it!" she cried as the old fabric ripped under the force of her hands and knees.

Jim offered her a hand to help her to her feet. "It's okay. We were going to throw it away. Wait!"

He knelt down and put his hand through one of the rips. When he brought up a handful of money, all twenty-dollar bills and larger, the girls fell to their knees and helped him tear back the mattress top. Honey sorted the money as Jim and Trixie scraped it out of the mattress innards. 

"Wow! Two thousand, eight hundred, and forty dollars!" Honey exclaimed as Trixie and Jim sat back and brushed off bits of foam and cotton.

"We'll put  it away with the ring for now and go to the bank tomorrow," said Win. "You were right, Trixie. I beg pardon for doubting you."

"It was just a rumor," said Trixie. "And Honey had the idea for the painting. She ripped open the mattress too."

"We're grateful to both of you, for the help and for the discoveries." 

Jim murmured, "Yeah."

"And it's only the first day!" said Trixie with great cheer. "Just think of what we might find by the time we're done. I'd better get going. I'm supposed to look after my little brother while Moms goes to the store, but I'll be back tomorrow."

She, Honey, and Jim rode the horses back to the Manor House stable, where they went their separate ways. Excited and happy, Jim ran most of the way back to Ten Acres.

He called to his dad, "They're both coming back tomorrow. We're going to ride the horses early in the morning, and after we're finished working for the day, we'll go to the lake and swim. They're both great. Really pretty, too, but differently. I don't know which one I'd ask out. Honey is so sweet, but Trixie is so lively."

"And they're best friends," said Win, shoving a stack of plates towards Jim.

"Huh? Well, yeah." Jim drew his brows together, puzzled, as he took the dishes to the kitchen.

"Friends and dating don't always mix well. Of course, they're only thirteen, so it's not a question yet. But if you stay confused and date one and then the other, you could wreck their friendship."

"Gosh! I don't think I'd do that. Did it happen to you?" Jim pulled up a dining room chair and sat down.

"Not exactly like that. I had a best friend in college, and somehow he always ended up with the girls I dated. At first I thought it was natural. He was better looking, more athletic, had more to offer. After awhile, I noticed that any time I got interested in a girl, he'd set out to charm her away from me. He did a great job of it. In our senior year, I met the girl I thought was the one, and I tried to keep her a secret. It's hard to keep a secret like that from your roommate, though. He found out, pulled his old tricks, and she fell for him like a ton of bricks. I moved out, graduated, and went to Wharton right away, where I was getting my master's degree. I met your mother at the library, where she was working, and she really was the one for me. But I've never forgotten what my 'best friend' Matt did. I never spoke to him again."

Jim was indignant, his face flushed as red as his hair. "I'd never do anything like that. He was a jerk!"

"Very true, young man. He was," said the tall, red-haired man at the open front door. "I've come to ask your forgiveness, Win. I've wanted to for a long time."

Win stayed seated, raising only one eyebrow. He didn't invite the visitor into the house. "Why now, then?"

Jim edged his way back into the kitchen. The conversation sounded  personal. Of course, he could still hear, though he tried not to. He busied himself with the coffee maker.

"Because when my daughter came home, full of our new neighbors the Fraynes, Madeleine wanted to invite you to dinner. I couldn't talk her out of it, so I wanted to apologize first, to clear the air."

"I'm surprised she married you," responded Win, still cold. "She came to Wharton to find me later that summer, but after she saw me with Katie, she left without talking to me. She sent me a letter, apologizing for being shallow and stupid. She said she could see I was in love with Katie and that she wouldn't cause me any more trouble. She wished us happiness. That's Madeleine for you, always gracious."

"Madeleine Grace Hart," agreed Matt.

"Anyway, she said she realized what you were and hoped she'd find someone someday to be as happy with as I was with Katie. I wonder why she changed her mind."

It was Matt's turn to flare as read as his hair. "I deserve that. I must have changed enough for her to give me another chance a few years later. I don't know if you knew I lost my parents that summer?"

Win shook his head.

"Their plane went down. Dad died in the crash, but Mother held on a few weeks. I didn't have any other family--you were as close to a brother as I ever had. I'd lost everyone, not that I'd ever treated any of you well. I was alone at the worst time of my life, and I realized I had no friends. I'd been such a jerk to everyone that the only people around me wanted my money. To make a long story short, I decided to be different. I want back to church and listened for the first time. I read about philanthropists instead of robber barons. I even went to a twelve-step group. They were the only people who would listen to me. Some time later, I met Madeleine again at a volunteer project, running a Christmas store for poor families. We started seeing each other again, though she was wary for a long time. I hope I've never let her down. I've worked hard to be what she wanted--more like you, actually. We've been married fourteen years now. I hope you and your son will join us for dinner when she asks you. I don't expect we can erase the past, but I hope we can be civil, especially if our children are going to be friends.

Win shifted his chair, scraping the old wood floor. "My wife always said that holding a grudge is like drinking poison and waiting for the rat to die. I haven't spent all these years hating you. Come on in and sit down, Matt."

Jim poured two cups of coffee and brought them to the table.

"Matt, this is my son Jim."

"My groom tells me you're quite a rider, Jim. I'm not at home as much as I'd like to be, and I hope you'll exercise Jupiter whenever you like. He's quite a handful, and Honey's not strong enough to control him. Neither is Trixie, and I'm afraid she'll break her neck trying." Matt sipped his drink. "Good coffee, Jim. Now Win, I don't know what your job situation is, but if you were looking to make a change, or even if you wanted a side gig, I could use your expertise at Wheeler Enterprises. I still remember what a financial genius you were in college."

Win flushed. "Kind of you, Matt, but I can't get to an office every day--I've applied for disability."

"And applied and applied and applied," muttered Jim. 

"I'm sorry to hear that, Win. But in this digital age, you don't have to go anywhere. In fact, it might be better if you stayed out of the company group think. I want you to tell me what the numbers dancing on my spreadsheets mean, help me find new companies, shore up the ones I have." Matt drained his cup and stood to leave. "Think about it. I know you have to settle in first."

Jim walked him to the door and then rejoined his father at the table. Win was still staring out the window. Jim cleared his throat.

"Dad? Dad?" When his dad's eyes focused on him, Jim continued, "Trixie says there's a bunch of medicine growing in that forest at the far end of our lot. Her dad's going to call the sheriff, but I told her that we'd handle it."

Win shook his head, clearing old memories. "I'll handle it, Jim. I don't want you anywhere near it."

#

Win waited until twilight to walk  to the back of the property. He took as much of his medicine as he dared over the intervening hours--there was a fine line between energized, pain-free and zoned out, nonfunctional. Sometimes at night he deliberately went into the latter state, so that Katie's illness and death didn't hurt so much, and he didn't worry so much about Jim. He was ashamed of those times; he never wanted Jim to know that sometimes he just couldn't endure. On the other hand, he was alive and caring for Jim the best he could. He wasn't at the point where he could fool himself into thinking Jim would be better off without him.

He took his cane that unfolded into a seat, and he was sorry that he needed to rest before getting out of sight of the house. Jim would worry. Still, Win knew he could make it if he just rested when he needed to. 

When he reached the woods, he frowned at the mass of weeds and vines. They looked like they might strangle the candlewood pine trees that surrounded them. Clearly no one had been through it recently. He made his painstaking way around the perimeter until he found what he was looking for: a path chopped through where no one in the house could see. The pines were spaced further apart here and not as tall, which let in more light, a friendlier place for other plants to grow. Obviously the soil was changing to something not as hospitable to the pines. A short ways in he found the weed, lots of it, almost four feet tall, well into the flowering stage and ready for harvest. He unfolded his cane into the three-legged stool and contemplated the growth, at least an eighth of an acre. He broke off a few bushy tops and pocketed them while he wondered what to do. He'd been prepared for a couple of plants obviously for personal use, but he wasn't prepared to turn a blind eye to a commercial operation. He wrapped the leaves in a handkerchief and put them his shirt pocket. Closing his eyes, he leaned back as much as he could without tipping the stool. After the chronic noise surrounding their city apartment, the stillness on Ten Acres, far from Glen Road, made his heart ache, grateful for this return to a more natural environment. The day had been tiring and hot, but the August evening offered a light caress of breeze, just enough to move the air and bring the temperature down. The piney scent collided with the weed's pungence, but neither overwhelmed his senses. He welcomed it after so many months being assaulted  by the odors of civilization.

He stayed still when he heard footsteps. A boy, a year or two older than Jim but more massively built, came down the path. He set down his bag of tools as he leaned over to examine the plants. As he stood up, he caught sight of Win, whose head barely cleared the plants. The boy jumped back.

"What are you doing here? This is private property." The kid hadn't had enough practice in sounding tough.

Win held his hands up to show his lack of weapons. "Yes, it is. It belongs to my son. I wouldn't want him to be accused of growing these plants."

"Wait! What happened to the old man?"

"He died. My son is his heir. The neighbors told me this stuff was growing back here."

"You can't prove anything! I was just walking along this path to see what was here." The boy did his best glower. "You might want to be careful about wandering around by yourself at night. There's dangerous people."

Behind him, Win heard a gun ratchet a bullet into place. He heard his son attempt the same tough voice. "That's why we go together. Drop what you're holding and put your hands up."

Win sighed as the other boy dropped his tool bag and obeyed Jim. "Jim, the gun isn't necessary."

"He just proved it is," said Jim in his own best growl.

Win struggled to his feet. "I don't think so. Son, what's your name? I'm Win Frayne and this is my son Jim." 

His eyes flicking from one Frayne to the other, the boy finally said, "I'm Ben DeVere. I live with my grandmother  over that way, down the road. She's got cancer, so I was growing this stuff for her. I'll harvest it tonight. Please don't report me before I get what I can out of this crop."

"Quite a lot for one little old lady with cancer," Win remarked.

Indignant, Ben said, "Those Beldens keep reporting me to the sheriff, and he comes out and chops in all down. They'd be twenty feet tall if he'd leave them alone. And then I have to buy seeds again, and I always get the female kind, which is expensive, but you get more out of them. I'm not sure I can get another harvest before first frost. So that's why I planted so many this last time."

Win nodded. "You've done a good job. I can see you've worked the soil well, and the plants look healthy. But if it were me, I wouldn't chop a path right to them, and I'd just plant a few in one place, so that people wouldn't notice. Or if they did, they'd just chop those few and think they sprouted up from the last batch."

Ben mulled that over.

Win said, "I grew this stuff for my wife when she had cancer, so I know what you're going through. Jim and I have to unpack and settle in, so we won't have time to get the sheriff out here. But we do have time to meet our neighbors, and so we'll call on your grandmother tomorrow, to see if we can do anything for her."

Ben looked alarmed. "Look, I haven't told her exactly what I'm doing. I just put it in her curries and tamales, and she can't taste the difference. She keeps making them spicier and spicier so she can taste them better. They make my eyes water. I was making brownies for her, but she took some to a church dinner, and--well, I told her that the organic ingredients were too expensive to share with everybody." 

"I understand. We'll be discreet. So we'll see you and your grandmother tomorrow?" asked Win.

Ben's mouth twisted. Then he nodded and gave his address, just a little further down Glen Road than Ten Acres.

Win bid the boy good night and turned for home. As he set out for their house, Jim held his elbow to help take the weight off his bad leg.

"Do you think he even has a grandmother?" Jim asked when they were out of earshot. 

"We'll find out tomorrow," said  Win. He opened his cane into a stool again and sank onto it, furious at his weakness. He waited until the pain retreated a notch before he said, "Jim, that's twice today that you've pulled out your gun."

"I thought you--we--were in danger," Jim protested. He stubbed his sneaker toe into the turf. "This morning it wasn't loaded."

"Thank heaven for that. So you were in danger of killing only two people instead of four."

"Two?"

"Ben and me. Jim, I asked you not to come with me and you did."

"I was worried the walk would be too much for you. Or you might run into a snake, like Great-aunt Nell."

Win did his best to sound firm. "I had my phone with me. I could have called you. Yes, yes, I know every minute counts. But Jim, I don't want you to grow into a man who solves all problems with a gun. I know you've been worried--scared is probably a better word. No, don't interrupt. You've had more responsibility thrust on you than any teenager ought to handle, and I know it's been overwhelming. It's been overwhelming for me, and I'm supposedly an adult. I don't know how I can keep every new situation from triggering you back into that panic we both felt when your mother was ill."

"And you were in the hospital," mumbled Jim.

"Exactly. But I'm willing to provide you whatever it takes--counseling, PTSD therapy--anything, Jim. You and I can't go through the rest of our lives reacting to the past. Your mother wouldn't want us to. We can honor her memory in other ways."

"I'll go to therapy if you'll get your last operation." Jim's jaw was set in the stubborn way his father recognized. He frequently saw it in the mirror.

Win sighed. "Point taken. But you go first. Don't wait for me to figure out how to pay for it. And I don't want you back by the marijuana field. Ever."

"You act like it's poison."

"Legally, it is. Your being arrested for possession--in this case, with the intent to distribute--could ruin your life before it's begun. If the law wants me to suffer--well, I'm older. But I don't want you involved with something that would prevent you getting the education and career you want." Win lurched to his feet and snapped his chair back into a cane. 

He drug himself a few steps ahead when Jim said in a low voice, "Dad, I already got involved with it. Remember when you were in the hospital? Mom ran out of her...medicine, and she was hurting, but she tried not to let me see. So I tried to buy some from this older kid at school, but I asked if he had some edibles, because I didn't know how to cook the stuff. He sent me to his sister. She was in my grade, and I had a few classes with her. She told me how much she charged for a pan of brownies, and I didn't have the money, so I asked for one brownie. You know how long it took Mom to get through just one.  And Candy said she wasn't going to make a whole batch to sell me one, and I could have half a pan if I'd pay for the one but take her to the Winter Formal, with a nice dinner and corsage and photos and everything. So I said yes and did a few weeks' work on our neighbor's farm so I could afford it all, and I earned enough to take her to the dance and buy the rest of the batch too. We dated for a little while--she said I treated her nicer than anybody ever. We went to the movies and hung out at the mall and stuff--but after awhile she called it off because it was too weird, dating a customer, and she kept wanting to give me stuff, at least at a discount, and that wasn't good for business. I was kind of glad. It _was_ weird, dating my dealer. I mean, she was interesting and she had a good heart. I mean, she came to Mom's funeral. But her family was pretty rough--teenagers with their own drug business? Their parents sold harder stuff. But I still took her places when she asked. We went to the Spring Fling. Her brother drove us. He kept warning me what he'd do to me if I treated her bad."

The old feelings of uselessness engulfed Win, like all the times he wanted to spare Jim pain and couldn't. He shook his head. "That's exactly what I didn't want you to get involved with. Did your mother know?"

"No, but she said Candy's brownies were the best ever. I let her think you'd made them and put them in the freezer."

"That's what she meant when she asked me for 'some like the last batch.'" Win clenched his teeth and took a few more steps. "Jim, I admire your resourcefulness and the love that made you do that, but I hope you never will again. I keep wanting to protect you, and I feel like such a failure that I haven't been able to."

"Dad, you've done everything you could. I've always known how hard you tried to take care of both Mom and me. But life gets weird. It's nobody's fault Mom had cancer and that guy ran into your car. Are you going to turn Ben in to the sheriff?"

"No, I won't do that. He has enough trouble. Let's meet his grandmother, if he has one, and see where it goes from there." Sweat ran down Win's face, but he didn't want to stop again so soon.

Jim gave him a sly glance. "Maybe you could take commission in exchange for his using the land."

"Now would that be right? To put someone else's child in the same danger I want you to avoid?" Win gave up and opened his cane into a seat again.

Jim looked out over the Ten Acres' land. "Dad, could we get a golf cart, like we had on our farm? We didn't use it that much, but Ten Acres isn't cultivated, except for what Ben's growing. I'll be keeping the land mowed, and it would be so much easier if I had something to ride on. And it would be fun."

Win avoided his son's gaze. Jim was getting far too clever. "If you want one. Let's look and see if we can find a used one. I want your inheritance as intact as possible for your college and career."

He looked up in time to see Jim hide a grin. Far too clever, his son. At least he still had a good heart.

#

 **Ten Years Later**

The only sounds around Ten Acres were two sets of footsteps, one halting, uneven, and the other the brisk tapping of high heels on the wooden ramp that led to the front porch. Win sighed, deeply happy and exhausted. Glen Road was much busier now, particularly with so much of its acreage now cultivated, but late at night it was as silent and scented as that first night he'd gone outdoors. Then too, he always felt such a deep satisfaction and pride every time he set foot on the ramp Jim built as part of his Eagle Scout project. Working through Sleepyside Eldercare, Jim, Brian, Mart, and Dan had built similar accessibility features in the homes of Glen Road seniors and even the Glenroad Inn, to the delight of the seamstress Ella Kline, who lived in the inn. The only problem with a son like Jim was picking the day you were most proud of him. Currently, that day was today.

His wife's voice called him back to the present.

"Darling, do you want to sit on the porch while I make some tea? Unless you'd like wine--though I've had enough, myself. And I made you some special chocolates."

"No more wine! Tea would be wonderful--and the chocolates too. I admit my leg is hurting more than usual, trying to keep up with those kids in the wedding party." He lowered himself thankfully into one of the rockers on the porch. The last surgery had cured most of his problems, but the pain returned when he overdid it--like every day of this wedding week.

Lost in thought, he came back to the present at the clink of teacups and a small plate. His wife said, "You can't fool me, Win. There's no way you wouldn't have been Jim's best man, if we'd had to wheel you to the altar in a hospital bed."

He chuckled as he popped a hand-made, marijuana-infused chocolate into his mouth. He held it a few seconds to let the chocolate melt before replying, "Thank God I don't have to worry about hospital beds in the near future! But I did turn Jim down at first, thinking he'd rather be with his friends. He said in that case, he'd ask Trixie to be his best man--and she'd have no problem wearing a tux--rather than decide whether Brian, Mart, or Dan was his next best friend. But that he really wanted me, after all we'd been through together. But Margery, were you okay, with those photos of Katie in the church and the reception? It was a nice idea to honor all the relatives who couldn't be there, but I was worried for you."

She laughed in those golden tones he loved. "Oh, Win, you don't think everyone asked me several times before the wedding? I thought it was a lovely idea. In fact, that was one reason I wore my locket today." Margery unpinned the golden filigree locket on her silk dress.

Win smiled, tender, as he took it from her. She wore the locket he'd given her for their first anniversary most days. She kept photos of her parents in it.

"Open it," she said. Over his gasp, she said, "I told Jim I put Katie's photo in it today, so that he could dance with his mother on his wedding day." She patted her husband's hand. "He cried too. But it's the day for tears. Happy tears."

"Bless you." Win took a sip of tea and another chocolate in hopes his voice would stabilize. "These are so good. When did you have time to make chocolates?"

Margery laughed again, sending a thrill up his spine. "I feel like the mother of the bride and groom, but with no responsibilities. After working for Madeleine Wheeler for ten years, I know when she wants my help and when she doesn't. This was her show."

"I just hope she's happy with Honey's choice," said Win. "I can't help feeling she'd prefer her daughter married some deb's delight from the rafters of Society."

Margery Trask Frayne smiled and shook her head. "Ever since Jim saved the girls in the Happy Valley flood, he's been first oars with Madeleine." She chuckled. "Though you should have seen her face when Jim gave bracelets to Honey and Trixie because they were his 'special girls.'"

Win joined her laughter. "Some people complain that their kids never listen to them. I must say, sometimes Jim listens all too well. He certainly had a Betty-and-Veronica thing going for awhile. I was relieved when Trixie and Dan got interested in each other. Well, so was Jim: He came to me and said, 'Shouldn't I be upset? I'm so happy that they're so happy. Of course, Dan better treat her right or he'll answer to me.' Then he figured out that he loved Trixie like a sister and Honey somewhat differently, though he kept his mouth shut--painfully--when she went out with Brian."

Margery said, "I half-expected teenage hormones to be the end of the Bob-Whites. But they all behaved beautifully, no matter who was dating whom, and they'll be friends for life now."

"So will you be feeling empty nest syndrome, with no more Bob-Whites to look after? You've been a parent to them all, even the ones who have parents." Win squeezed her hand.

"Not a bit! I am so excited to finally have my husband to myself, to work in his business, to live in our very own house--I never thought I'd have my own house, Win." Margery's voice thickened.

"And we can almost see it from here, down near Glen Road. I'm sorry it wasn't finished in time for us to let the kids have this house right away, but we should be in ours before Christmas. And they don't need the whole house for just the two of them."

They sat in silence, listening to soft rustling and chirrups of the night creatures until Win spoke again. "Jim and I were running away from our old life when we came here. I wouldn't have had the energy to do even that if it weren't for him. If you'd told me what was waiting for me, I wouldn't have believed you: reconnecting with Matt, him giving me a job I could do from home, that job providing medical insurance so that I could finish the surgeries I needed to be mostly mobile and pain-free, his asking me to leave that job and be his partner when he got one of the first medical marijuana licenses in New York and wanted me to manage the farm, and you--no one could have convinced me that I'd ever find love again."

"I don't think I could have loved you if I hadn't made peace with my family--thanks again to those crazy kids," Margery said in a low voice. "There were so many places along the way where things might not have worked out--but they did, and it all seems so inevitable now. There's certainly something magical about the Bob-Whites."

"Maybe it was inevitable, but I'll never stop being grateful. Here's to us and the Bob-Whites--perfectly perfect together, as my daughter-in-law would say." 

Win raised his teacup, and his wife clinked hers against his. Somewhere in the dark woods a bobwhite chirped its call.


End file.
